Gundam Wing: Rebirth
by Domon Kasshu
Summary: The prelude to a story that may or may not be continued, at some point... depends on if I can get past writer's block on it.


Rebirth, Prelude

Gundam Wing: Rebirth  
Prelude: Whatever Happened to Heero Yuy?  
**By Slashman**

    _Author's Note: This is the beginning of one of those "follow up to Endless Waltz" fics. I'm interested in getting some feedback before I go too much further with it. I'll post Part One in the next few days, and then maybe y'all will have some idea of where this insanity is headed. _

    **A.C. 201**

    Quatre Raberba Winner took in a deep breath and, for once, longed for the days when he gave answers with the edge of a shotel rather than with a barely managed pleasant smile. The young owner of Winner Industries ran his hand through his shoulder length blonde hair, then glanced back to his phone. All twenty incoming call lights beckoned to him in unison, reminding Quatre he had a long day ahead of him still.     "Master Winner?" The voice on the intercom belonged to Gretchen, his eternally pleasant secretary. She made a habit of buzzing him in the office simply to flirt, and Quatre did not have the patience for that game today.     "Yes, Gretchen?"     Her next words, suprisingly, dripped with venom. "There's a... woman... here to see you."     It never failed. At least once a week, a single girl, usually from L-4 but sometimes from further out, came to see him. Most wore little clothing and possessed even less personality. The conversations consisted of the girl telling him how cute he was, how nice his office was, and finally she would ask him if he wanted to get to know her better, at which point Quatre buzzed for security. Today, he decided not to bother with it. "Send her away."     "I'm sorry," he heard Gretchen say triumphantly. "Mr. Winner is busy, so you will have to come back later, Miss Dorlean..."     "_Relena!_" Quatre exclaimed, and tripped over his chair as he tried to jump to his feet. He stumbled to the door, pausing only to regain his balance before he opened it.     "Quatre!" Relena dashed over and gave her old friend a tight hug. Age only benefited the young foreign minister, her figure taller and slightly fuller now. She looked beautiful in her formal business suit, though Quatre decided that Relena could wear a burlap potato sack and make it looking stunning. She smiled at the former Gundam pilot, the same smile that charmed every politician she dealt with, but one which had more genuine warmth for Quatre.     "You look great!" Quatre exclaimed. Gretchen sneered.     "You too! The longer hair suits you!"     Quatre felt a sudden flush to his cheeks. "Please, come into my office."     Relena nodded, then stepped inside. "The Maxwells asked me to say hello."     "How is little Aidan doing?"     "Fine... he's apparently become an expert marksman with his baby food. He's perfected the art of hitting his daddy with it from all the way across the room, from what Hilde says."     "...the next generation will have its own Duo Maxwell. I pity them."     Relena chuckled slightly. "Have you heard from Trowa, lately?"     "A week or so ago, when the circus came to L-4. Cathy's been trying to fix him up with a new "lady clown" that joined the circus."     "And...?"     "He said her breasts were too big and her brain too small. ...I still don't know if he was joking or not. He didn't laugh."     "He never laughs."     "This is true." Quatre grinned broadly. He rarely had the opportunity to talk to friends, much less his old friends from his days as a Gundam pilot. True, he was often invited to play golf with business associates, but he quickly learned that he detested the game. The companies he did business with hosted dinner parties on the occassion, but Quatre did not care for the company. His chief recreation was attending music recitals, but an "important call" often interrupted his evening. Talking to Relena made him, for once, feel almost normal.     "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"     Relena frowned slightly. "Mostly business, I'm afraid. President Brendan and his cabinet sent me because..."     "The Plowshare Project... am I right?"     "Exactly. Certain individuals within the Earth Sphere Unified Nation feel it sets a dangerous precident. Don't get me wrong, I agree completely with your motivations, and I feel they are overreacting, but..."     "But, you are an official serving under them," Quatre nodded in reply. "I do understand their concerns, but I feel the project is important as a symbol as much as it is to protect the lives of our miners. Turning Leos into tools to help the entire Earth Sphere has helped many of the former soldiers I employ finally have some closure on the war."     "The President insists the terrorist groups that still remain will attempt to gain control of the suits, and rearm them..."     "We have installed numerous failsafes on the suits, and we do extensive background checks on anyone cleared to use them... tea?" Quatre lifted up a cup.     "Please," she replied. "I wish I could reassure the President, but no one wants to be remembered as the man who led us back into war."     "If President Brendan wishes, I can send him a complete list of the failsafes and security measures we employ on the Plowshares. I can also provide a list of miners we have lost in the past five years, along with the six months of incident free work using the Plowshares."     "I don't know if that will be good enough for him. He says the people are demanding action."     "Does that mean the voting public, or the Hamilton Corporation?" The room was silent for a moment. Quatre shook his head as he took another sip of his tea. "I had dealings with Brendan when he worked for the Hamilton Corporation. I also know that he tried to bury his connections to the Romefeller Foundation before his candidacy, and that Antoine Dermail has his ear. None of that illicits confidence."     "I've heard a little about Antoine Dermail from Dorothy. She says he's just as amibitious as his grandfather, but twice as intelligent. He could be dangerous, but his name alone will keep him from carrying too much influence."     "I don't think Antoine Dermail wants a revolution, either. What this amounts to is a game of political manuevering in order to increase the profits of the Hamilton Corporation. They are, after all, large the remains of Romefeller, and have had difficulty moving from military to consumer production. They want to hold up the Plowshare Project long enough to design a competing model."     "You seem as though you've figured it all out," Relena said, unable to conceal an impressed smile.     "I hope I have. Peace has lasted for five years, and stability is starting to return. I don't think anyone would wish to disrupt that. Still... I can't help but be a little nervous."     "History is but an endless waltz..."     "What?"     Relena looked up at Quatre. "It was something Mariemaia said to me. She thought history was nothing more than an endless waltz, with the three beats of peace, revolution and war repeating for all eterntiy. As peaceful as the world is now... I cannot help but remember those words."     "The world is weary of war, Relena... I cannot imagine they wish to return to it any time soon."     "I agree... yet, even that fact makes me sad..."     Quatre looked at the young woman, puzzled. However, her next question made him understand.     "Have you heard from Heero at all?"     Quatre sighed, and shook his head. "Only the Christmas and birthday cards he sends us all. But... I'm sure he'll come back one day for you one day, Relena." Under his breath, he added, "I would."     Relena gazed out the window of Quatre's office, to the stars outside, much as she did any time she thought of Heero. "Perhaps he will. But... it has been five years, Quatre. Five long, lonely years. I don't think I can wait forever."     "Heero," she thought to herself. "Where have you disappeared to... and why have you left me all alone?"


End file.
